


Peter Wets the Bed

by kianisabitch



Series: Lonely Dad Clint, Age Regressing Peter and Helicopter Parent Tony [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable Peter Parker, Age Regression/De-Aging, Bed-Wetting, Comfort, Diapers, Fluff, Little Peter, Non-Sexual Age Play, Parent Clint Barton, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Slight feminization, clint has dad skills, pull-ups, slight situational humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 07:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kianisabitch/pseuds/kianisabitch
Summary: Bunching the pink pull-up in his hand he helped the boy step into the garment one foot at a time, pulling it snug against his flat hips. The package advertised the sizing as 4T-5T, meaning a 15 year old boy should not be able to fit into them, so Clint grinned widely when he saw that they fit perfectly on the small boy. Toddlers and teenagers were basically the same when it came too mood swings and tantrum, so it was quite fitting that the boy could fit into something meant for a four year old girl.ORPeter wets the bed and Clint's dad skills kick into overdrive.





	Peter Wets the Bed

Clint didn’t particularly know much about the boy. Aside from the initial shock he had felt when he had first discovered Spider-Man’s age, 15 was far too young to be pulled into this crap, he only knew that the kid stuck close to Stark and didn’t tend to talk to any of the other avengers.    
  
When the team had officially moved back into the tower earlier that week, Peter (it was strange that the super hero had such a normal name in his opinion) had kept his head down. He only every talked when he was asked a question first and nervously twitched when people looked in his direction. Stark had explained tentatively that the boy only lived with him because his Aunt had recently passed away, but Clint still had a hard time with the boys silence. The avengers were like a family and he wanted their youngest member to feel the affection he gave the other members of the team as well. He was loud and boisterous, but more importantly, he was caring.     
  
Those sentiments are the reason why Clint’s dad reflexes went into autopilot the minute Peter walked into the common room at 2:27 in the morning. He was twitching nervously and urine dripped in little pitter patters from his bright green Hulk pajama pants, creating a puddle of pee on the floor. The boys hair stuck up in every direction and his cheeks were puffy and tear stained. He looked so much younger than the 15 year old Clint knew he was and for a second, he saw his own child standing there in soaking wet pjs and crying after wetting the bed.    
  
Clint rushed forward from the coach, almost knocking over his mug of cold coffee. For a second the boy looked like he was going to run, but by the time Clint had made his way across the room, he was in these and spot (the puddle of ore was now twice the size) and only crying harder.     
  
The man gave the young boy a once over with his eyes, nodding his head at the boy’s small frame, tiny hips and short legs. He knew exactly what to do in this situation.   
  
“Let’s go get you cleaned up kid and then we can make hot coco” he said, rubbing circles into the child’s shoulder. “We just have to head to my room” he added, already maneuvering the wet child towards his doorway.    
  
When they made it to his room, Clint helped Peter sit on the messy black comforter on the bed (not caring that it got wet in the process, crying children always beat cleanliness in his eyes). He then mentally prepared himself for the feat of looking through his own children’s belongings. He didn’t see his children often, but he brought the things from their bedrooms around with him in a paper box no matter where he went. They were his most prized positions.    
  
Clint pressed a teddy bear into Peter’s arms, knowing the soft fur always helped his son calm down. He then turned his back to rummage through the box again. He couldn’t help but smile when Peter ran the fur over his face and hugged the stuffed animal close when he thought the man wasn’t looking. He knew the boy was embarrassed, but there was nothing wrong in finding comfort in a stuffed friend.    
  
Next the man pulled a container of baby wipes from the cardboard box and a crumpled, half used package of his daughters pull-ups. He knew Peter would complain, but his dad instincts were winning out over the phantom complaints in his mind. The kid shivering on his bed in soaking wet pajamas needed a nice, warm diaper (his kids hated when he called them diapers, but that’s what they were so shoot him for calling them by their name), some hot coco and to be tucked back into bed with a story or two to make the dreams good.    
  
As predicted, Peter started whining the second he saw the pull-up in Clint’s outstretched hand (especially when he saw the bright pink color and Cinderella design proudly displayed on the front). But Clint quickly sushed him, helping the boy strip out of his itchy wet pants. He pulled a baby wipe over the boy’s skin, making sure to do it quickly, but thoroughly, in order to not embarrass Peter further (but still not wanting the boy to get a rash).    
  
When Peter was pee free and looking significantly cleaner, Clint helped him stand up once more. Bunching the pink pull-up in his hand he helped the boy step into the garment one foot at a time, pulling it snug against his flat hips. The package advertised the sizing as 4T-5T, meaning a 15 year old boy should not be able to fit into them, so Clint grinned widely when he saw that they fit perfectly on the small boy. Toddlers and teenagers were basically the same when it came too mood swings and tantrum,  so it was quite fitting that the boy could fit into something meant for a four year old girl.   
  
He would never tell Peter this, but the pull-up made the teenager look quite adorable. Cinderella as well as little sparkle designs and a glass slipper that faded when wet were now smoothed out, proudly displayed on the front of the boy’s disposable underwear. The teddy bear, still clutched in his arms, only added to the appeal of the whole overgrown toddler look.   
  
It made Clint’s heart soar to see Peter looking so happy. The boy seemed so broken every time the man saw him and seeing him so small, so whole, so adorable and so carefree made him want to wrap the boy up in a hug and never let go. In his mind, it was a good day when the boy was only embarrassed about the girly design on his diaper and not his dead aunt or bullying at school or the the responsibility and trauma that came with being a teenage superhero.    
  
Clint patted Peter’s now padded butt twice to signal the change was over and the boys entire face turned bright red when the fabric loudly crinkled. He tried to pull the hem of his shirt over the diaper, but gave up after a few tries when he realized his shirt was far too short and that Clint had made no move to help him into new pants. It was clear Cinderella was here to stay and even when Clint heard the boy whining, he ignored the sounds and focused on running his hand through Peter’s messy curls. Pants were great, but Clint knew the drill from potty training his own kids. A kid who wet himself once, was very likely to wet himself again (and more likely than not, in the near future). And he wasn’t risking the boy getting a rash if he refused to tell the man he needed a change because he was too embarrassed and Clint couldn’t tell that he was wet. No pants meant Clint could easily check to see if the boy had another accident. He had successfully potty trained two kids before and Peter would be no exception to Clint’s potty training, expert dad rules. Wetting the bed meant hot coco and snuggles and a bedtime story and unconditional love. But wetting the bed also meant pull-ups for the next week every night. And with the pull-ups came the rule of no pants to hide a little boys accidents with. Accidents needed to be taken care of is soon as possible and this was the way he was able to do that. It was night time anyways, so no one else would be around to see the red tint on his face at  the appearance of his diapered butt.    
  
It was clear the boy was having trouble verbally. He appeared to want to talk. Peter kept on trying to form words on this mouth, stumbling out segments of words and syllables. Eventually, like a sleepy toddler, the boy was finally able to mumble out a soft “thanks for making me all dry and stuff...” he paused, tugging at his shirt again. Clint hopes the boy does not ask for pants, because he is not in the mood for a tantrum tonight. But instead of asking, he simply mumbles a quick “coco now, please?”    
  
Clint chuckled, of course the kid wanted his coco as payment for his trouble. “Of course kid, let’s go get some yummy coco into that belly of yours”    
  
He then held his hand out to the boy. Peter took it and the two made there way back through the common room and into the kitchen. The crinkling of the pull up was the only sound in the room and Peter’s face was still bright red. However, his embarrassment quickly fades by the the time Clint slides the mug of hot coco across the counter towards him, only after adding three ice cubes to cool the drink down. Instead the boy giggled and bounced up and down on his padded bottom as he counted out exactly 7 mini marshmallows (7 was one serving size and Clint was not risking sugaring the kid up this late, especially if he wanted the boy to fall asleep again).    
  
When the coco was done and the last drips of chocolate goodness tipped back into Peter’s mouth, Clint helped the boy back to bed. Peter’s rook was not an option. His sheets were flooded, so Clint settled him into his own bed (only after getting a new comforter to replace the one that slightly damp one from Peter sitting on it earlier).    
  
The man couldn’t help but smile when he tucked the boy into the bed. He rambled on about some adventure he and Nat had gone on. Every few minutes, Clint thinks the boy has finally fallen asleep. But as soon as he gets up from his place perched on the bed, Peter’s hand shoots out to grab the man’s wrist. And every single time the man chuckles, plopping himself back onto the bed and continuing the tale of the super epic mission. He is used to his kids never truly falling asleep, but he still gets a rush of excitement when he gets up to leave and Peter’s hand does not dart out to catch his wrist and force him to stay and continue the story. There is only so many cool things he and Nat have done together that are apportie for a child and Clint was reaching his limit of stories that would not have to be heavily edited for content. 

 

Before Clint turns to leave the room, he stared down at Peter. The kid was adorable when he slept. His hand had somehow drifted to his mouth and his pointer finger sat firm between his lips. Every few seconds he would suck on the finger methodically, as if it was second nature. His messy curls were spread like a halo on the pillow, making him look like an angel. Somehow within the first few mentors of being awake Peter had quicker off the comforter, no doubt due to the heat, and his pull-up was in full view to the world.    
  
Clint smiled when he saw his daughters’ training panties sitting snug and warm on the waist of this young boy he barely knew. Something about the way the pink stretchy fabric hugged the kid’s skin just made him feel euphoric. He felt high on the feelings if being a father, of looking after someone and knowing Peter would wake up dry, in a wet diaper if anything, and not in a soaking wet bed. 

 

He missed his own kids like hell. But for now he definitely needs to get to know this boy better, because Peter might just be the perfect stand in son. The perfect distraction from the longing he feels for his own christen. Peter rolled over, the pull-up crinkled and he sucked on his finger harder. Clint smiled at the adorable sight, he really was the perfect surrogate son.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 110% a self indulgent fic of every age play trope I love. 
> 
> If you like this fic and other age play fic and art, please please please check out the Marvel Age Play Big Bang I am running over on tumblr. 
> 
> The link is: https://marvelageplaybigbang.tumblr.com/
> 
> I've been working really hard on this project and I can't run it if no one participates, so if you want more age play marvel greatness- please participate!!
> 
> In other news, I am taking recs for this series. So if you have an idea for a one shot (or short multi-chapter), comment and I'll try my hardest! I want to push myself and I think this is a rad way to try something new!!


End file.
